For Gryffindor!
by SousLeStylo
Summary: [Oneshot] The wind was howling. The crowd was screaming. My teammates were congratulating each other. For Gryffindor! Then she pressed her mouth to mine and… R&R, please!


**A/N: **I actually don't have an author's note for this beyond—I've just got back from late night coffee and horrible pie from a diner totally and completely inspired to write _something_. So, hope you like it.

**Disclaimer:** Most assuredly not mine.

**For Gryffindor!**

Screeching, screaming, whooshing, crying… the wind blew through my hair and I whooped in anticipation as the sharp blast of young Hooch's whistle sounded from below me.

I scanned the group in front of me—the green and the red, like decorations for Christmas, streaming through the air, dashing after that ball of glory. I shot into the fray, my broom gripped tight in my hands.

The players were screaming… "C'mon!" They shouted. "Grab it, Potter," they yelled. "Let's go, let's go!" They bellowed.

Next to me came the crack of a bat and a whirling ball shot past my head. I gasped. The intoxicating feel of adrenaline streamed into my veins and filled my brain with a sort of fog. All I could see was that quaffle.

Alexander had it in his green-gloved hands. All I could think of—its mine, its mine, its mine, its mine!

That competitive mantra marched through my head as I grabbed my broomstick tighter and pulled it closer to my body so that I was leaning over it, urging my broom to go just a bit faster, just a bit quicker.

The wind was howling around me then, small drops of rain hitting my face and peppering my glasses with water. The inevitable rains of the gray English springtime making their appearance at the game.

Alexander was half a foot in front of me. I reached out with one arm, yelling loudly in triumph of my capture.

But—at the last moment, Alexander heaved the ball to his left, and it flew through the air into the waiting arms of McBride, who grinned and shot off toward the Gryffindor goal posts in a streak of Slytherin green.

My broom turned around so fast that I heard groans escape from the crowds below, awed and terrified at the precision of my maneuver. I grinned—oh this is what I loved!

I screamed and, like lightning,came upon McBride, who was edging towards the three round goals. I grabbed his shoulder and flipped him around, nearly shoving him off of his own broomstick. I snatched the quaffle with both of my arms, balancing on my broomstick with only my legs, then leaned down, clutching the broom to me once more, the ball held protectively to my chest.

It's mine! My brain shouted to me in its fog of adrenaline.

Another bludger whooshed past me and the wind screamed once more at me as I flew to the other end of the feild.

My breath quickened as I dodged in and out of players, refusing to relinquish my hold onthe prize. The three goalposts were in front of me; a grin swept over my face as slammed to a halt in front of the middle one. I drew my arm back and yelled triumphantly, then hurled the ball into the goal.

As the ball flew through the hoop, a bell sounded from somewhere and below me, hundreds of students broke out into deafening cheers. My fellow Gryffindor players crashed into me, throwing their arms around me, slapping me on the back, and shouting my name.

It was pure glory as I sunk to the ground, the words of the announcer ringing in my ears.

"I don't believe it! James Potter has just won theQuidditch Cup for Gryffindor—one hundred and seventy five to one hundred and five! With one brilliant move of the broomstick, Potter will forever remain immortalized in this moment! Gryffindor wins! Gryffindor wins! Gryffindor wins!"

I laughed triumphantly as my feet hit the ground, and I looked at the students streaming out onto the field to congratulate us.

My friends were there first, slapping my back and shouting hurrahs into the air, telling me that we're going to have one hell of a party later on.

Dumbledore strode up to me, the shining silver Quidditch Cup clutched in his arms. His eyes twinkled proudly at me as he held the trophy out to me. I took it and held it in the air, shouting, "For Gryffindor!"

As I let my other teammates take hold of the trophy and shake it in the air, another figure dashed up to me, red hair streaming out behind her. She threw her arms around me, her bright green eyes shining brightly, and shouted, "Potter, you did it! That was amazing! Simply and utterly amazing!"

Then she pressed her mouth to mine and—

"Uh, James?"

I woke with a start. For some reason I was on the cold wooden floor of the dorm room, my blankets wrapped around me in a tangle of burgundy and white. My pajama pants were pushed up my legs to mid thigh and my t-shirt was twisted around my abdomen uncomfortably.

Standing around me were my three best mates. Remus was looking at me and shaking his head, letting out a slow sigh as he did so. Peter was looking at me with a puzzled expression, as if unsure of what to make of me. Sirius was laughing silently, running a hand through his hair.

"'Nother Quidditch Cup, mate?" Asked Remus.

I looked around the dorm room sleepily. Early morning light was streaming in through the windows, and the drapes on all of the beds were drawn back. Slowly, I nodded to him, coming back to reality.

"I won it without even the seeker catching the snitch… One hundred and seventy five to one hundred and five…" I murmured.

"And… was Evans in this one, too?" Remus questioned.

"Why do you ask?" I grumbled.

" 'Cause you were mumbling 'She pressed her lips to mine and…' an' then you fell out of your bed!" Sirius said, snickering.

I looked at him sharply and muttered, "Shuddup."

I crawled back into my bed, dragging my sheets with me, and whipped my drapes closed, ignoring the laughter that burst out of all three of my friends.

Pushing my head back under my cool white pillow, I closed my eyes and tried desperately to fall asleep once more—

The wind was howling. The crowd was screaming. My teammates were congratulating each other. For Gryffindor! Then she pressed her mouth to mine and…


End file.
